Rarities Unlimited 04 - The Color of Death

old man’s, you could sell tickets to the explosion.
    After a few fast bites, Peyton opened his computer and started scrolling down the screen, eating as he worked.
    Kirby didn’t try to see what was on the screen. No point in peeking. Peyton wasn’t Kirby’s only source of courier and gem insider information—and vice versa, no doubt. So Kirby just settled in and concentrated on cleaning his plate before the grease got cold enough to write in. He was almost finished when Peyton spoke again.
    “We’ve got several Thai shipments of mixed cut and rough in the pipeline,” Peyton said around a mouthful of breakfast. Not thatthere was much rough, just enough to keep an auditor from wondering where the extra stones came from. Most of the rough ended up where it belonged—in the trash. “Two weeks is the earliest arrival for finished goods.” He shoveled in a forkload of eggs and potatoes. “You want to take the gems to Eduardo personally or just send them to the PO box?”
    “I’ll send them to the usual place.” Kirby swallowed and took a gulp of coffee.
    “Okay,” Peyton said. He entered a note into the file. In a few days Eduardo would pick the stones up and mix them in with the Thai shipment when it arrived. Peyton himself would never be seen handling either shipment. “What kind of stones and how much do they weigh?”
    “How should I know? I don’t carry a scale.”
    “Guess.”
    “Maybe like a half brick of marijuana.”
    “And that would be…?” Peyton asked impatiently.
    “About half a kilo.”
    “Let’s see them.”
    Kirby shoved his empty plate aside, shook out his napkin, and reached for the bagel bag. He pulled out another smaller bag and poured the contents on the big napkin. Stones the size of confetti spilled across the napkin like a broad multicolored tongue.
    “A grab bag,” Kirby said. “Maybe eight ounces of blue sapphire, two of ruby, and the rest are topaz, tourmaline, zircon, amethyst, whatever. Hell, I don’t know. You’re the expert, not me. You want to examine the stuff?”
    Peyton looked at the sparkling stones. The pick of the litter was a big pink-orange sapphire, followed closely by a large nearly char-treuse stone that was a hybrid emerald brilliant cut and was probably green garnet. A fine natural star sapphire in an unusual shade of luminous gold caught his eye. Then there was a cushion-cut stone that could have been garnet and would be worth a pile if it was a natural pink ruby.
    His eye went back to the brilliant yellow-green stone. The lasttime he’d seen it, Mike Purcell had been trying to sell it for twenty thousand to a collector who specialized in unusual colors of semiprecious gems.
    “Nice enough blue on some of these sapphires,” Peyton said, “but they’re all small and I guarantee they’ve been treated up the ass.” Some of the lot was probably yellow sapphire, which was in high demand right now. Not that he was going to mention that to Kirby. If the guy didn’t know his stones, tough. “What are you asking for the shipment?”
    “Two hundred thousand.”
    Peyton didn’t hesitate. “Eight thou.”
    “A hundred. I got expenses just like you.”
    Peyton hesitated, saw that there wasn’t any give in Kirby, and shrugged. The four good stones would bring that much, easily, even after reworking. Or better yet, he could put them in the vault and be that much closer to retiring.
    “If I don’t like what I see when these are inventoried,” Peyton said, “I’ll take it out of your next shipment.”
    “That’s the deal,” Kirby agreed.
    Peyton looked at the bagel bag. It still bulged.
    “I got lucky with another shipment,” Kirby said. “Cut stones. Well cut.”
    Chewing on a bit of steak, Peyton hesitated. “How big?”
    “How the hell should I know? The dude said they were real good quality and not small. Top-tier stuff.”
    “Total weight?”
    Kirby hefted the bag. “Maybe a pound.”
    Peyton turned to his computer again. “Precious or just colored?”
    “You tell me.”
    Kirby rolled up the first batch of stones in his napkin and put it on the other side of the table. He opened the bagel bag and carefully withdrew a fat plastic bag. With a care he hadn’t showed for the other stones, he eased the gems out of their package and nudged them over the white tablecloth until he could see individual stones.
    Peyton had his game face on. He looked at the blue, red, green, and occasional pink or silver-blue stones—diamonds,